


it's like i don't know anything

by nosecoffee



Series: nowhere else i'd rather be [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Baked Goods, Baking, Can Heidi be MY mom?, Comedy, Connor works at Olive Garden, Cookies, Crushes, Drug Use, Evan's apartment is secretly a greenhouse, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Forgive Me, Humour, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I love Heidi a lot, It's Almost Midnight, Laundry, M/M, Marijuana, New Conspiracy: Connor didn't finish the milk, Plants, Post-it Notes, Recreational Drug Use, She could murder me and I'd say thanks, Tea, The Amazing Asshole Jared Kleinman, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Other Next Door Neighbour™, The Very Thin Wall That Seperates Connor and Evan's Apartments™, Tree Bros, fake dating au, fight me, next door neighbours au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-04 01:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10979769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosecoffee/pseuds/nosecoffee
Summary: Some things Connor finds after moving in;One: Alana has absolutely no problem with him coming over in the middle of the night to steal her tea, or rant, or just sit on her tiny balcony and smoke. She even smokes with him, sometimes, if she's on edge.Two: The Other Next Door Neighbour™ sings in the shower. And not even normal stuff like the Chainsmokers, or Katy Perry. He sings show tunes, and Connor wouldn't even know if he hadn't gotten really intoCatsfor a time, and who the fuck doesn't knowMemoriesoff by heart? Connor's not some kind of monster (or, he is, but he's not an uncultured one, at least).(Or the AU where they're next door neighbours and Connor gets locked out of his apartment)





	it's like i don't know anything

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'If I Could Tell Her' from Dear Evan Hansen
> 
> Idek

It's still weird, to Connor, even, that he's moving out after Zoe.

And it took him way too long to find a place, anyways.

In the end, all it took was a casual mention to Alana, when he was stopping off at the library after work, and then she was chirping along about how old Mr. Howard was moving out from beside her and his apartment was going up for sale.

After that, Connor was pretty much set.

And now, as he carries the last box inside and goes to kick the door shut, he spies a small box beside the doorway, in the hall.

It's one of those old-school Tupperware containers, the type his mom fills with leftover crackers after a wine tasting. There's a Post-It note stuck to the top.

_I really hope a random stranger doesn't pick this up, but Alana said you were moving in today, and I figure a house-warming isn't complete without cookies. (I swear I didn't poison them. I'm just way too anxious to give them to you in person). Welcome to the neighbourhood. From, your other next door neighbour._

Connor kicks the door closed and opens the box.

He's honestly willing to believe that the other neighbour hasn't poisoned them.

They're still warm.

Connor eats all of them in almost ten minutes.

~

Later that night, when he's trying to find a mug so that's he can make coffee and survive the unpacking he's doing, he sees that the other next door neighbour wrote something on the other side of the sticky note, too.

_PS, please return this when you're done with it, because this is a part of a matching set and I kinda don't want it damaged or lost in the void. Thanks._

Connor spends the next fifteen minutes searching for the sticky notes that Zoe left him with so he could label the cabinets in his kitchen.

It's three in the morning, right before Connor's about to head off to bed, when he drops the container back off, a sticky note on the top.

_Thank you for the cookies. I assure you, unless some random stranger picks this up, that I would never let your rad Tupperware container get lost in the void. From, your new next door neighbour._

He passes out almost immediately after getting into bed.

~

Some things Connor finds after moving in;

One: Alana has absolutely no problem with him coming over in the middle of the night to steal her tea, or rant, or just sit on her tiny balcony and smoke. She even smokes with him, sometimes, if she's on edge.

Two: the guy who lives above Connor holds parties every so often, and plays remixes of 70's songs. Connor tries to complain once, but Alana talks him down, telling him that he'll get used to it, in time.

Three: the guy who lives above Connor is also friends with The Other Next Door Neighbour™, and visits him a lot. (The guy who lives above him wears glasses and short-sleeves button ups open over graphic tees and he seems to think that it's a good look.) (What is also vaguely worrying about the guy who lives above Connor, is that he smells like he just stepped out of a Lush store. Nothing against Lush, but whenever Connor's anywhere near him, he nearly faints at the overwhelming smell).

Four: The Other Next Door Neighbour™ sings in the shower. And not even normal stuff like the Chainsmokers, or Katy Perry. He sings show tunes, and Connor wouldn't even know if he hadn't gotten really into _Cats_ for a time, and who the fuck doesn't know _Memories_ off by heart? Connor's not some kind of monster (or, he is, but he's not an uncultured one, at least).

Five: The Other Next Door Neighbour™ leaves him warm baked goods when Connor's not having a great night, and those are the nights that he sits in his bathtub and eats them, wondering what their name is, and trying hard not to hate them for never being around enough for Connor to see them. (Yeah, that's a little creepy, but he's only ever caught a glimpse of them.)

Six: well, there is no six. Not yet. He's been there for three months, so there really isn't much to report on. Connor maybe just wants to eat his goddamn fresh snickerdoodles and be left alone.

 ~

Connor jams his key into the lock and twists.

It snaps and he just stands there. Staring at it.

What the _fuck._

Yeah, the lock's shitty, and has been, ever since he moved in. Yeah, he's usually too forceful with things he should be gentle with. Yeah, he's really high right now.

Zoe's actually gonna murder him.

He left his phone at home this morning.

His stash is in there. As is his laptop. He was supposed to call his parents tonight.

Fuck.

He pulls at the jagged bit of key still sticking out of the lock. It doesn't move an inch.

Connor lets his head smack into the door and groans.

He can't call a locksmith, because he has no phone to call with. He can't just show up to Zoe's, unannounced. He could just sit in the hallway and pass out.

He doesn't want to do that at _all._

There's a vague, out-of-tune whistling from down the hall that cuts off abruptly. Connor turns to look in its general direction.

The stairwell door slams closed and a sandy-haired boy stands just at the end of the hall, rummaging through one of the many grocery bags hanging off his arms, muttering.

He hasn't seen Connor (or if he has, he's doing his best to ignore him).

Connor vaguely recognises him from the short glimpses he's caught.

That's The Other Next Door Neighbour™. Evan, he thinks he's heard the guy who lives above Connor call him.

Their bedrooms and bathrooms share a wall.

The walls are _really thin_ in this building.

Evan finds his keys and pumps his fist in the air in victory. He looks up and immediately goes still when he sees Connor staring at him.

Yeah...that's creepy. He should...stop.

"Um." Evan says, hurrying past. "Sorry, if I disturbed you."

He fumbles with his keys - _whoa,_ his hands are shaking so hard - and they jangle, loudly, which seems to only make him more nervous, which means that he drops his keys, which means that he accidentally drops a shopping bag, which means that three boxes of pop tarts slide out onto the floor, and a bunch of apples go rolling out into the hallway.

An apple bumps into Connor's shoe.

He's watching Evan scramble about on his knees, trying to keep things organised.

Connor should help. Instead, he's standing there and watching, like a creeper.

_Way to make a dude feel sorry for you in such a way that they let you borrow their phone._

He shouldn't call his parents like this, anyway.

He could just wait for Alana to get off shift and beg her lemon tea and cellphone from her.

He's done it before.

Connor picks up the apple and bends down to hand it to Evan.

Evan's shaking hand takes it, and Connor helps him to his feet.

"S-s-sorry, I'm a mess." Evan stutters, readjusting his grocery bags and going about juggling his keys again.

"Me too." Connor responds, half-inclined to take the keys from him and unlock the poor guy's door himself. Considering the state of _his_ keys, however...

Connor winces.

Nope. Not doing that.

Evan's door opens with a click. He lets out a loud sigh and shoulders it open, dropping a few bags so that he can turn in the light, right inside the door. He kicks it closed behind him and leaves Connor in the hallway by himself.

That's honestly fine with Connor, because he doesn't even mind all that much, as he's high as a kite, and slides down his front door to sit on the carpet of the hallway.

A few minutes later, Evan's door reopens, and he's obviously stripped a bunch of layers off, because instead of the puffy coat and hoodie he was wearing before, he's wearing a blue polo shirt.

Evan looks down at Connor, a vaguely concerned look on his face. He scans him, head to toe. "Are you alright?"

"Waiting for Alana to turn up so I can use her phone and convince her to let me hot-box her bathroom." Connor tells him, matter-of-factly, smiling in what he's hoping is a charming manner.

Evan blanches. "Oh."

Connor nods. God, his throat's is dry. He knows he should've filled up his water bottle at the park. He did not. And then he left it at the library. _Shit,_ he's a mess.

Alana probably has it. Probably saw him leave it there. Is probably SnapChatting him menacing pictures of it with threatening captions, like she does when she's on break.

When she's tired enough to think that that's funny.

"You know Alana, right? She lives next door?" He adds, seeing Evan's puzzled expression.

"No, no, I know Alana, I know - when will she be here?" Evan taps the door with his fingers.

He's dropped all his grocery bags, kicked under the decorative table in the entryway that looks like it's on its last legs (heh).

"Whenever she finishes up with her shrimp for the night." Connor responds, shrugging, and grinning, again. He runs a hand through his hair, in such a way that it comes down in front of one of his eyes.

"I-I-I'm sorry?" Evan's the one staring now, huge blue eyes widening at him. Connor can't tell if it's just Connor's mere state that's shocking him, or the honesty he has on the fact that he's smoking weed, and plans to continue doing so, in the very near future.

"She tutors kids from underprivileged areas, at the library." He waves a hand, vaguely, in the air. "She stays overtime when she needs to. I can't text her to find out. My phone's in my apartment, and my key just broke."  
  
"Oh, do you want me to c-c-call a locksmith?" Evan goes a shade redder than before and begins to shake his head. "Or, I could just lend you my phone - doyouwannaborrowmyphone?"  
  
His words are rushed, and Connor's already very vague on what exactly is going on. He takes a moment to process the question, fully. "That would be great. I need to call my parents, too. I promised I would."  
  
Evan furrows his eyebrows, giving Connor another calculating look. "Should you...?"  
  
"Hm?" Connor widens his eyes that way that Zoe hates.  
  
"Sorry - I'm sorry - are you high?"  
  
"Oh, definitely."  
  
"Do you really want to call your parents while you're high?" Evan seems hugely concerned.  
  
"Absolutely." Connor laughs. "It'd be hilarious."  
  
"O-o-okay." Evan turns, opening the door wide enough for Connor to slip through. "Come inside."  
  
Connor trips on a bag that's full of bread on his way in, and the resounding thump makes Evan shoot a worried look over his shoulder.  
  
The apartment is like a flipped version of his own. It's disorienting.  
  
That, and the copious amount of plants.  
  
_Fuck,_ that's a lot of green.  
  
"I didn't catch your name." Evan states, turning on the lights and bathing the plain, overgrown living room in warm orange light.  
  
"Connor. Murphy." He's pretty sure on of the plants is actually growing over Evan's couch. He sits down, gingerly, on the little ottoman by the tiny coffee table. It's a far from any of the plants as he can get.  
  
"Oh. Well, I'm Evan Hansen."  
  
"Cool." Evan walks into the kitchen, and there's a clicking noise.  
  
"You said something about tea? Do you want tea?" Evan appears in the doorway, holding a Tupperware container, and rummaging through the array of teabags it holds. "I have lemon and e-e-e-earl grey, and a few peppermint tea bags."  
  
"Lemon's fine." Connor tells him, smiling. "It's what I drink when I'm high."  
  
"Oh." He doesn't look shocked. Just like he's processing these facts.  
  
"You say that a lot." Connor comments.  
  
"I'm surprised a lot." Evan responds, flushing a little. "You can use the landline if you want."  
  
"You have a landline phone?" Connor glances to the little table beside the couch, and the fern that's vaguely disguising the handheld receiver. "I thought those had gone extinct. Like Blockbuster's and Club Penguin." He calls to Evan as he returns to the kitchen, and Connor picks up the phone.  
  
"Uh, well - no, it's kinda in-in-integral to my wifi agreement." Is the response he receives. "Go ahead and call the l-l-locksmith and your parents. I'll make tea."

Connor dials his mothers cell and holds the receiver up to his ear to hear the dial tone. It rings for almost half a minute before his mothers breathless voice says, _"Cynthia speaking, how can I help you?"_

He sighs. "Hey, mom. It's Connor."

 _"Connor! You caught us right before bed!"_ Her cheerful tone turns curious. _"Where are you calling from? I don't recognise the number."_

"Doesn't matter." He dismisses it, knowing she'd come back to it, soon enough. "Why'd you want me to call?"

 _"The Harris's can't make it to the ski trip this year, so your father and I are calling it off."_ Connor has a mini silent celebration, moving to sit on the couch.

 _"Is that him, Cynthia?"_ Suddenly, ah yes, that's his father's voice, and all thought of victory drains from him.

 _"Yep."_ Her voice gets fainter as she turns away from the phone. _"He's calling from some undisclosed place."_

 _"Connor, will you save your mother the trouble and tell us you are?"_ His father addresses him directly.

"Did you put me on speakerphone?" Connor demands, in a vaguely betrayed voice.  
  
His mother sighs. _"Honey, if you didn't want to talk, you should have just answered our texts."_  
  
"I lost my phone." He replies, quickly.  
  
_"Seriously, Connor? Again?"_ Connor never would've called them if he knew his dad was gonna use the disappointed voice, again.  
  
"I'm not stoned enough for this." He mutters, rubbing his eyes.  
  
_"Stoned?"_ His mother cries, making him cringe at her volume. _"Connor, tell me that you didn't relapse!"_  
  
"I don't live in your house, anymore, mom - it really doesn't matter." He protests, and hears more clicking from the kitchen. He figures it's Evan's kettle or something. Connor could honestly care less about what his parents think of his smoking habits. He went clean to get a job, anyway, and it's not like he's high at work.  
  
_"It matters to your mother and I. Developing brains should have no contact with drugs and alcohol."_  
  
"Dad. I'm legitimately 21. Please don't." Connor sighs, running a hand through his hair again.  
  
_"Connor, where are you? Are you safe?"_ His father questions. Connor's had enough of him, already.  
  
"If I wanted to be interrogated by you, I would've come home for Christmas, wouldn't I?" He says, scathingly, and hears his mother gasp. Oh, he's gonna get it tomorrow, for sure. It was a low blow, anyway.  
  
_"Connor!"_ His mother cries.  
  
"I'm gonna hang up now." Connor tells them.  
  
_"Honey-"_ Shebegins, but Connor doesn't want to have this conversation.  
  
Connor cuts her off. "Night mom, night dad." He hangs up, and puts the receiver back in its cradle, below the fern.  
  
"I take it you're n-not close with the folks." Evan comments, reentering the room with two mugs. One is yellow, and looks like it was made at a legitimate pottery, and the other has a Far Side Gallery cartoon on it. Evan hands him the yellow mug.  
  
"Not particularly." Connor grumbles in return.  
  
"Dude, it's hot so d-d-don't-" Connor's not sure whether he's ignoring Evan's comment or taking it as a personal challenge, but he immediately begins chugging the tea.

It scalds his throat. Bad choice.

God, he was _definitely_ going to regret that in the morning.  
  
"Jesus Christ." Evan whispers, eyes wide, left hand tugging at the hem of his blue t-shirt.  
  
"Good night Evan." Connor says, putting the mug on the coffee table and proceeding to pass out, face-first into Evan's couch cushions.

~

"Blockbuster's aren't ex-extinct."

"What the fuck."

"They're just kinda dead in America. Australia and other p-places still have them."

"What _the fuck."_

"Are you okay?"

"How did I fucking get here?"

"Um..."

"Fuck, man."

"You yelled at your parents over the phone for a whopping three minutes and passed out on my couch after chugging hot lemon tea."

"Why the fuck was I here?"

"Your key broke in the lock and you were too lazy to call a locksmith. I in-in-in-invited you in for tea and my landline phone. We had a conversation about Blockbuster's and Club Penguin."

"Why?"

"Y-y-you brought it up."

"Stoned me is an asshole. Never listen to stoned me."

"Go and shower while I Febreeze my couch. Give me your clothes too. I'm gonna w-wa-wash them."

"Why?"

"My mom's coming over later and I can't have you stinking up my house. If she smells weed here she'll think I'm using my pay checks for drugs and d-drag me home."

"That's awfully convoluted."

"That's my mom. Go shower and give me your clothes. Alana will probably still be home and you can get her to call a locksmith for you or whatever."

"Wait."

"What?"

"What was I yelling at my parents about?"

"Something about how you didn't want to b-be interrogated."

"So nothing of importance?"

"P-p-pretty sure you told them you were high."

"Shit. They're gonna send Zoe over."

"Who's Z-Zoe?"

"My sister. She's gonna punch me."

"That's sad."

"That's life."

"Not mine."

"Well, I guess, you're just lucky."

"You could s-s-s-say that."

"I could, couldn't I."

~

Connor tries not to take too long when Evan sends him off to shower. He leaves his clothes in a pile outside the bathroom door and prays that they don't shrink in whatever off-brand washing machine Evan owns.

He's not sure whether he should use his shampoo, or whether Evan would be okay with him using his soap, so he just ends up standing under the spray for four minutes, and then turns the knobs until the water stops.

And then...

Well. And _then._

He's standing on Evan's flattened blue bath mat, soaking wet, and cold. And naked.

Yeah, he so doesn't want to be too presumptuous and use Evan's towel.

Connor opens the door a crack. "Evan?"

"Yes?" Comes the reply from somewhere near the living room.

"I don't think we thought this through very well." Evan walks into view, and takes in Connor's drenched form, what little of it he sees. He flushes a little.

"W-wh-what do you mean?" It's clear that Evan thinks there's nothing wrong with this picture.

"I have no clothes." It's very blunt, but it gets the point across. Evan averts his eyes and rubs the back of his neck, face growing steadily redder.

"Ah. Yeah." He mumbles. "Not my b-b-best move."

Connor taps his foot on the bathmat and sighs. "So?" He prods, after a long moment of silence from the both of them.

"S-so." Evan echoes, and pinches the bridge of his nose, looking up to make eye contact with Connor again. "You're not even wearing a _towel."_

It's Connor's turn to flush. He clutches the door jamb like its a lifeline. "I didn't know if you'd be okay-"

"I told you to take a shower, and I wouldn't have d-done that if I didn't want you to use my soap." Evan all but snaps. He clears his throat, and gives Connor a half-apologetic look, as if to say, _tell me I'm wrong._

"Ah." Connor says, dumbly, instead of anything else. Evan nods, fingers worrying at the hem of his crumpled shirt. Connor thinks it's the same shirt from last night. Thinks Evan must have slept in those clothes.

"I'll gra-grab you a shirt and some boxers - the walk to Alana's is short, and she's p-probably seen you in worse states." Evan states and turns into the bedroom of to his right.

"Okay." Connor responds, giving the hallway a short, surveying look, before closing the door.

"And, for gods sake, dry off. You've gotta be f-fr-freezing." Evan yells through the wall, reminding Connor of just how thin the walls are, here.

"Okay." He says again, quieter, before reaching for a fraying green towel on the rack.

~

Alana opens the door and immediately purses her lips, the way she does when she completely disapproves of something he's done.

Nevertheless, she ushers him in, and goes about making coffee. "So," Alana begins, voice all business. "You slept with Evan."

Connor blanches. "What? No! I-"

"You've been here for three months and you've already corrupted one of the few innocent people in this building." She interrupts, apparently taking no shit from him, today. "I mean, Evan's awesome, in an indescribable way, but you have to know that he hasn't been in a relationship in ages, and he's actually really fragile when it comes to-"

"I didn't sleep with him, Alana." Connor snaps. "My key broke in the lock, last night, and Evan was nice enough to invite me into his apartment so that I could use his phone. I passed out on his couch and he made me take a shower so that his house wouldn't smell like weed."

"Oh." Alana says, simply.

"Yeah, _oh."_

"Um...sorry."

"It's fine."

"D'you want me to call a locksmith?" Alana fiddles with her phone.

"Please do." Connor says, smiling at her, a little.

~

Later that day, he opens his front door, and finds no one there, after the frantic knocking that had taken place only a minute earlier.

Connor finds a huge box at his feet. He has a feeling Evan left it.

He has good reason to, because there's a nametag on it, the type parents put on their children's plastic sandwich boxes, and it says _Evan Hansen._

There's a sticky note on top, too.

Connor's starting to believe that any time he's heard Evan speak wasn't real, and that Evan communicates solely through anonymous delivery of fresh baked goods and awkward/passive aggressive Post-It notes.

It's a cake.

Three layers, chocolate, with chocolate filegree and Malteasers on top.

Chocolate _filegree_.

Is this boy for real?

Connor starts eating it with a fork and reads over the sticky note.

_This is a preemptive apology cake. As in, sorry for what I'm about to do. (It's stupid, but not life threatening, and I'm really sorry for dragging you into this, and no, I didn't kill anyone, and no I don't plan to kill anyone.) So don't worry. I'll update you on the situation, later._

Connor hopes Evan isn't involved in a mob or something. Thinks it would be unfortunate if he died. Or went to jail. Or fled the country. What would Connor do without the occasional macaron?

He eats a good quarter of the cake before putting it back into its box, and then putting the box into the fridge to prevent himself to entirely massacring the cake that Zoe would kill for.

He knocks on Evan's door a few minutes later.

It's immediately opened by a blonde woman. He has never seen her before, in his life. Connor wonders if he maybe knocked on the wrong door.

"Hi there," the woman says, holding the door jamb with one hand, the other dangling by her side. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I um-" he glances over her shoulder and sees the plants growing over bits of furniture, so, yes, right apartment, and continues, "I'm here to see Evan?"

She brightens up. "Oh, okay." The woman looks over her shoulder and calls, "Evan! There's someone here to see you!"

Connor's used to the guy who lives above him level volume, but this woman, who he's assuming is somehow related to Evan, doesn't fit into the criteria Connor's put in place on this building.

"What's your name, honey?" Gosh, when was the last time anybody had called him that? The waitress at the diner he went to a month ago? He's kind of reeling. "I mean, you look too young to be a door-to-door salesman, but I've gotta check. Evan hates them."

"Oh, um, I'm Connor. I live next door." He holds out his hand for her to shake, but instead, the woman gasps and tugs him into her arms.

"Oh! Evan's told me so much about you! I'm so happy to meet you!" The woman exclaims, squeezing her arms around his shoulders. It's besides the fact that he's taller than her. "You have no idea how relieving it is to hear that Evan's finally found somebody!"

"What do you mean?" Connor demands, as politely as he can, while wrestling out of her grip.

"You really think that Evan wouldn't talk to me about his boyfriend?" She releases him and gives him a rueful look. "I don't know what you're like, but that boy has never been able to lie to me."

"Boyfriend?" Thankfully, that's the moment Evan sdecides to appear, and his whole demeaner drops, when he sees Connor.

"Connor!" He squeaks. "What are you doing here?"

"I was here about the note," Connor begins, glancing between the two, and he can see the resemblance. Same nose, same eyes, same hair. He shakes his head of it, still trying to process what she had said, "but now I think - sorry, Mrs Hansen-"

"Call me Heidi." She smiles.

"Heidi." Connor nods to her. "Can I have a second?"

"Of course." Heidi nudges Evan out of the doorway and closes the door. Leaving them alone in the hallway.

"'Boyfriend'?" Connor asks. Evan fumbles over some words and tugs unforgivingly on the hem of his t-shirt.

"I c-c-c-can exp-explain." He stutters out, not meeting Connor's eyes.

"You'd better. You told your mom that we were dating?" Connor's so confused that it's scary. Not mad, because that kind of means that Evan thinks he's boyfriend material, and that's not exactly bad for his self esteem.

"Yeah. Listen, I look pathetic." He licks his lips, and grimaces. "And she's my _mother,_ so she can't tell me so, but she gives me these looks, like she's sorry, and I just wanted her to stop looking at me like that."

"That's so dumb." Connor points out, and then runs a hand through his hair, agitatated. "That's the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard. That's-"

"I don't wanna hear it, okay!" Evan cries, and it's the clearest Connor's ever heard him speak. Then, he lowers his voice, "Just tell me, right now, point blank, if you're willing to do it."

"Pretend to be in a relationship with you?"

"Yeah."

Connor purses his lips. "Can I tell my family?"

"Sure." Evan shrugs, like its no big deal. It is a big deal.

Connor makes a split second decision. "...oh, what the fuck. I'll do it."

"Thank you." Evan sighs in relief. Connor isn't sure if his heart is racing because he gets to piss off his dad now, or because Evan considers him a prime candidate for being his boyfriend.

Maybe it's just because he gets to pretend to be Evan's boyfriend, now.

Yeah, that might explain the heart thing.

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this, I really hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please feel free to leave a comment and/or kudos, and hmu on Tumblr @nose-coffee.
> 
> Some other notes: I'm thinking of continuing this, but I have no idea where I would even start. If you'd like to see more of this, or have an idea for plot or something along those lines, please let me know, because I'm open to pretty much anything.
> 
> If you wanna see some quality fan art, please click the following link; https://yakleaves.tumblr.com/post/163048314723/one-of-my-favourite-scenes-from-nose-coffees
> 
> Again, thank you.


End file.
